he played the fiddle but he fell in love with an english man
by The Last Letter
Summary: AU. After the war, Dean meets a muggle named Seamus in a pub. Sparks fly immediately, leaving to a charged relationship that spreads over long distances as Seamus travels with a band. As Dean worries about telling Seamus the truth about magic, he never dreams that Seamus is keeping something secret as well.


Dean watched, amused, as Neville's eyes grew ever-wider the more he and Dean walked. A sheltered Pureblood, Neville had never spent much time in the muggle part of the world. It was the summer after their final year at Hogwarts and Dean – without much convincing – had gotten Neville to spend the day with him in muggle London. Neville had been fascinated by Dean's new flat and then they had started walking. Everything from treat shops to fashion shops to some of the slang they overhead had Neville staring around like a tourist. Now, they were walking through the park where Dean had spent time drawing and refereeing the odd football game.

"It would be wonderful to work here every day," Neville said, stopping Dean to inspect a carefully planted garden.

Dean watched him; Neville had always had a way with plants. He'd spent a lot of time with Professor Sprout. They had always ended up with dirt on the floor of their dormitory. Neville was never as careful as he wanted to be.

"How's the Auror job?" Dean asked.

"I feel as though that's where I need to be though, perhaps, not where I would like to be."

Dean nodded; he could understand that.

Neville's head lifted. "Did you hear _that_?"

Off they went, following the music. Lively fiddle music and a man's loud voice dominated the sound they were tracking. When Dean and Neville came across the small stage the live band had set up on, Dean could also see a drum, guitars, and a man holding a flute he wasn't currently playing. They had gathered a fair-sized crowd; Dean had more of an eye for art than an ear for music, but he thought they were quite good. He and Neville slowly made their way to the front of the stage and that was how Dean first noticed _him_. The fiddler. He was a short boy who looked about Dean's age. His sandy hair stuck to his sweaty forehead as he clutched his bow.

He was art in motion. Dean could have watched him play for days. Neville didn't allow Dean to do such a thing, asking Dean if they could go to a muggle pub for supper. Wizards tended to stick to their own liquors and he wanted to taste a few different things. Unwillingly, Dean left the stage and lead Neville off.

"I'll miss the Hogwarts feasts," Neville said when their forks were put down the last time and their drinks were gone.

"Wasn't bad," Dean said, but it was hard for anything to compare to the feasts they'd enjoyed at school.

"Thank you for the day," Neville said. "I've an early morning."

They were all early mornings for Dean. Nightmares followed him to sleep every night. He often woke screaming before dawn.

"Come back whenever you want."

"I'll owl you soon," Neville promised.

Dean said he'd get the cheque and then Neville was out the door. Dean glanced around, wondering whether he should go home or buy another drink. When his gaze came to rest at the bar, Dean recognized the man sitting there. The fiddler from earlier, his glass dangerously empty. Dean made a split-second decision and left his table, sliding into the empty space next to the fiddler.

"Can I buy you another?"

The fiddler turned his head and Dean wondered if anyone had ever checked him out so obviously before. The man's eyes went over him once quickly and twice extraordinarily slowly.

"If you tell me your name, I'll let you," he said, his Irish brogue stronger and thicker than Dean had expected to come out of a man that looked like that.

"Dean Thomas," he said, sitting on the bar stool and gesturing slightly at the bartender. "What are you drinking?"

"Whiskey on the rocks." The man cocked a grin. "Be polite, mate. Ask me my name."

"What's your name?" Dean asked. He could play along.

"Seamus Finnigan."

"I saw your band earlier," Dean admitted.

Seamus looked amused, but he had to hold his comment until Dean was finished ordering from the bartender. When Dean turned back around, Seamus was leaning into his personal space.

"An' what did you think of the band?"

"Loved it." Dean had never seen a shade of blue like Seamus's eyes before.

"Good answer."

Seamus reached to grab his drink and Dean noticed an odd scar on the inside of his arm. It was a large, miscoloured patch of skin.

"What's that?" Dean asked, and before he knew it, his hand was on Seamus.

"It's a burn," Seam said. "I've a thing for fire."

With his free hand, Dean picked up his beer and took a gulp. "What else do you have a thing for?"

Seamus put his hand on Dean's thigh and Dean wanted his hand to keep inching further up, no matter that they were still in populated bar. Dean leant forward even more as Seamus impishly whispered, "I've a thing for tall black boys with English accents."

Dean laughed. "Are you always this forward?"

"Yes, especially when I see something I like." Seamus lifted his glass to his lips again.

"You have any more scars?"

"Yep. You have a place nearby?"

"Yep."

Then, it was a race to finish their drinks.

(-.-)

Dean cursed, Seamus's name falling from his lips. He reached up to grab the man's pale hips, driving his own upward. Seamus bent to kiss him quickly, then asked, "An' what was your name again?"

Without missing a beat, Dean flipped Seamus underneath him and pushed him deep.

"Oh m-m-m … _God_," Seamus cried out, his eyes rolling back.

"Not quite but I'll take it."

Dean took it as a good sign that Seamus couldn't even respond, he just reached down between them to work his own cock. Dean felt the moment Seamus came; it fueled his own thrusts. Seamus's nails scratched down the length of Dean's long back and Dean bit down desperately on Seamus's skin. Seamus moaned again, raising goosebumps on Dean's skin, and that was when Dean came.

Seamus pulled Dean's head up for a long kiss and then Dean rolled off him. He discarded the condom in the bin and then he collapsed back down next to Seamus, holding his hand lightly. He turned his head, just to find that Seamus was already watching him.

"What are you thinking?" Dean asked.

"Tell me I can stay the night," Seamus said, "so we can do that again in the morning."

"Later tonight too." It was also a little selfish. If Seamus kept him up and kept him exhausted, maybe he wouldn't have nightmares tonight.

"We should take a shower."

"Five minutes."

"Ten," Seamus corrected.

Dean pulled Seamus in against his side. He was little but oh-so warm. Seamus threw his leg over Dean's; they grew sticky and heated around where their bodies touched. Dean didn't care. The afterglow of sex had always left him happy and contented but never quite like now. He chalked that up solely to how long it had been. It was hard to do anything but survive while on the run in the middle of war times. Seamus was his first since. A hard-jawed, muggle boy who played the Irish fiddle. And who was covered in burn scars.

Really, Dean could do worse.

"Did someone set you on fire when you were a lad?"

"Something like tha'. I did it to myself." Seamus lifted his head and rested it on his hand. The dip in the bed caused by his elbow made Dean slide toward him. "In the morning, I get to have my way with you."

Seamus could do whatever he wanted to him. Not only was the sex better than Dean could describe with words, but there was also something refreshing and wonderful about how Seamus said what was on his mind and was completely unapologetic about it. Dean kissed him, sloppy and fulfilling.

"I don't know anything about you," Dean said, their faces impossibly close.

Seamus's eyes glinted brightly and Dean was struck with the urge to draw him. Perhaps, even, paint him. He might look better and more accurate to the way Dean saw him if he were painted.

"Well, we've all night. Where would you like to start?"

"When did you start playing?"

"The instrument? When I was six. I kept gettin' curious about my da's. He was tired of me breaking his bows. In the band? About a year."

Dean picked up one of Seamus's hands. He'd felt the rough scratching of the callouses, but it was the first time he'd looked at them.

"Amazing what you can learn about a person in five minutes of conversation."

"It was you pushing me out the door!" Dean said.

"I wanted you to take me home the moment I realized you were eating with a friend, not a boyfriend." Seamus rested his head down again his head down against Dean's chest. "I'm not a homewrecker. Many things but not tha'."

The thought of him dating _Neville _had Dean shaking with laughter. "I could never! I shared a room with him for six years."

"That sounds like a setting for good stories."

"It was boarding school. There were four of us in the room." Dean cleared his throat. He didn't want to be asked too many questions about Hogwarts; he'd never thought about how to answer them. "Where'd you go to school?"

"Didn't," Seamus said. "My mum homeschooled me."

Dean brought his hand up to tousle Seamus's hair. "Why do you sound sad?"

"I don't." Seamus sat up quickly. "How about that shower?"

Seamus sat up quickly and slid away. Dean was helpless, watching his naked body move, all the more alluring because Seamus knew exactly what effect he was making. Dean was more than happy to lead Seamus to the shower, wanting to know what that sandy hair looked like wet.

(-.-)

Green. Lots of green. Endless forests. Always running, never having anywhere to go, just knowing he would have to get there. The familiar nightmare woke Dean at the same place it always did. When his run was about to come to an end that left him suffering under the weight of a fate unknown. He opened his eyes, grounding himself in the look of his room. This was the here and now; the real life. He turned on his side. He hadn't woken Seamus. The other boy was sleeping in his stomach, clutching the pillow tightly to him. He looked surprisingly sweet asleep, so different from when he was awake.

In the small amount of light that he had, Dean carefully stood from the bed. He walked slowly and turned on the light in the living room. It wouldn't bother Seamus but it would give him enough light to see his sketchbook by. Drawing something always helped him soothe himself afterward. Dean perched by the footboard of his bed and began to sketch, getting the lines of Seamus's face first. They'd only slept next to one another for a few hours but Dean already knew that Seamus moved around a lot. Dean knew it wouldn't be his best but nothing he did in the middle of the night was. It did the trick, though. His hands no longer shook and his racing heart had calmed.

The bed creaked again with Seamus's shifting – Dean didn't glance up this time, though he should have.

"What are you doin'?" Seamus asked, his accent thick with exhaustion.

"Oh, um, I'm –"

Before he finished, Seamus had pushed himself in Dean's arms, coiling into his lap with his head on Dean's bony shoulder.

"Can I look?"

It would be worse to deny him and, so, Dean placed his sketchbook in Seamus's hands, sure that he was going to make the other man _very _uncomfortable. Seamus was virtually a stranger, yet here Dean was, staring at him and drawing him in the middle of the night. Dean watched Seamus's face and, rather than being disturbed, Seamus grinned.

"I wish I looked that good."

Seamus was being overly kind. While Dean knew he could create halfway decent art, that particular piece wasn't one of them.

"Can I look at more?" Seamus asked, already starting to turn the page.

Dean nodded – it wasn't as if Seamus would be denied and it wasn't like Dean wanted to deny him. He rested his head atop Seamus's; his thick hair was still the slightest bit damp from their shower. Seamus flipped through a lot of pieces of the Hogwarts grounds and Dean desperately tried to think if he had anything blatantly magical in the sketchbook. Not that it would be spectacularly difficult to explain the sketchbook. He could chalk it up to being creative and Seamus would fill in the blanks for himself. Muggles were good at doing that.

"These are incredible," Seamus said, and Dean puffed up at the awe in Seamus's voice.

"Thank you."

He went to just nuzzle his face against in the crook of Seamus's neck, but he ended up biting and licking his way along one shoulder. Seamus's hand flashed up to cradle Dean's jaw line.

"No," he said. "I told you, you're mine this time."

Dean let Seamus push him face down along the bed, Seamus throwing his legs on either side of Dean's body. Dean could have gasped every time Seamus's skin brushed his as Seamus stretched out along his body, sliding his hands along Dean's skin while his mouth slowly kissed down Dean's spine. Dean grinned and buried his face in the mattress.

No, he didn't think he'd mind being Seamus's at all.

(-.-)

Dean woke the next morning, realizing that it was nearly ten a.m. He couldn't remember the last time that he had woken before dawn and then had been able to go back to bed. He sat up, realizing that he smelt something – something delicious. He pushed himself out of bed and found that Seamus was, incredibly, still in his apartment, standing over his stove. Dean leant against his kitchen doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest and just watching for a moment. He could have watched Seamus be shirtless in his kitchen for a lot longer than he did.

"An' he cooks too," Seamus drawled. "It's like he's magic or something."

Dean tried not to wince at the word. _Magic_. He kept his wand close to him, just in case of danger, but he hadn't quite been able to bring himself to use it, not in the day to day way he'd been looking forward to once he left Hogwarts. Dean wasn't ready to try and force himself back into a world that had rejected him.

"Surprised you found food," Dean said.

"Yeah, do you not eat or something?"

"I'm lazy. And my family lives close so why cook when Mum is doing it?"

Seamus shoved his hair back off his eyes. "Then, why live on your own?"

Because he had little siblings and a stepfather and a mother that didn't understand. That got dark circles from the screaming. That made him feel like he was collapsing under their expectations that he be broken or that he be the same and he couldn't figure out how to exist in the in between when he was around them.

"If I didn't, I would have had to leave you in the pub."

Seamus laughed. "Well, I didn't want to be left in the pub. Where's your plates?"

"So, that's where you draw the line at snooping?"

"No. I'd snoop but you're standing here now."

"To the right."

Seamus served their simple breakfast and Dean sat next to him at the breakfast table.

"What do you normally do during the day?" Seamus asked. "Figure I should know that too."

"Not much. I do drawings of people in the park for some money. Other than that, I kind of exist between things. I don't know what I want out of life yet."

"Know how that feels. Band's real tour starts tonight so I guess I'm doing that for a while."

"Real tour?" Dean repeated.

"Gonna dazzle the better parts of Europe. Supposedly." Seamus rubbed at his eyes. "Not even our tour. Our singer pulled strings, got us to open for someone who's more famous. Not better though. Definitely not better."

"I believe you," Dean said. "So, you're doing that for –"

"A couple months. Four? Five? Six? Doesn't matter to me."

"So, I'm not going to see you again," Dean stated.

Seamus's eyes slid toward his and Dean could recognize that mischievous expression after only one night. "Did you want to?"

Under the table, Dean slid his foot along the inside of Seamus's leg. "I might."

"Oh, no," Seamus snorted. "With the places my tongue has been, you don't ever get to be vague with me."

"I want to see you again."

That answer seemed to satisfy Seamus. "Good. I don't have a phone number or nothing, so I guess I'll just have to come 'round when I'm in town."

"Anytime."

"The sex _was_ that good," Seamus mused, and Dean nearly choked on his eggs, struggling to come up with a smooth reply.

"I just like that the man can cook."

"I'm like magic," Seamus said again.

Dean was perfectly willing to redefine his definition of magic. He suspected it would have something to do with Seamus's smile.

"Can you do real magic?" Dean asked. "You know, card tricks and stuff?"

_Not blood wars. _Card tricks and stuff.

Seamus's cheeks went pink before he said, "No. But I'll learn. For next time I see you. I want to keep impressing you."

"I'm already impressed."

"I know. 'S why I said _keep_." Seamus reached down and grabbed onto Dean's foot. His nimble fingers went under the leg of Dean's pyjama pants, playing along Dean's shin. "I … I do have somewhere to be."

"Eat and run?"

"I could've just run," Seamus mused. "But, I didn't want to do that."

"Yeah? Any reason why?"

Seamus looked at him slyly. "Oh, _maybe._"

"What was it that you said? With the places my tongue has been, you don't get to be vague with me."

"My tongue was in significantly _more _places," Seamus insisted.

"We can fix that now," Dean offered.

"Next time," Seamus said. "I promise."

Seamus stood from the table but then he leant over Dean. Seamus was at least a foot shorter than him but while Dean was sitting, he had to look up. Seamus cupped his jaw gently, the roughness of his fingers sliding against Dean's morning stubble. Dean tilted his head back and then Seamus kissed him. After the heat of last night, the kiss now felt almost sweet. Dean's hand rested against Seamus's waist and he didn't want to let go.

"See you again," Seamus promised.

Merlin, Dean hoped so.

And, then, Seamus was out the door.

(-.-)

"You won't even meet me in Diagon Alley?"

"Sorry." Dean shrugged one shoulder but he didn't feel all that bad for calling Neville into the muggle side of the world. "How's the sandwich?"

"Worth spending my lunch break on," Neville admitted. "So, how've you been?"

"Lonely," Dean admitted. "Do you ever feel that way?"

"Of course. Do you find it's worse, sometimes, to sit with someone who understands?"

Dean fiddled with his fork. "How do you mean?"

"Everyone's so weary and so tired. I can't even look Harry in the eye because all I can see is the fight, still. Then, I talk to the muggle waitress and I realize … everything's fine. She believes everything is fine and it feels that way to me, for a moment."

Dean nodded along with Neville's words. _That _was how he'd felt with Seamus. Like he could breathe again because there wasn't any reason for him not to. Not that Dean really thought he would ever see Seamus again, despite what the other man said. It had been nearly two and a half weeks since he'd gone on tour – if the tour had even been real and not an excuse – and he hadn't come back into town. What had Dean been expecting? It was a good one-night stand.

"It's like the sun ended up being far away or something," Dean mumbled.

"Yeah, something," Neville agreed. "Are you taking care of yourself?"

"Yeah, yeah. There's a bookstore near me, looking for part-time work. I put in a resume."

"Flourish –"

"Neville, stop. I can't do that. I feel like I have to run from it still, even though magic is supposed to be a part of me."

"We can only take our time, I guess."

"Even though you're out of it," Dean surmised.

"The job never ends."

Dean nodded and then Neville was gone. He turned toward the bar in the back of the pub they'd stopped in, half expecting to see Seamus sitting there, but there was no one. Dean paid for lunch and left the shop, stepping onto the street. It was still early in the afternoon but he had no where to go. There was nothing he had to do. He missed the structure of classes and knowing what to do in a day. He hoped he got the job at the bookstore. It would be nice to talk to people again, people who didn't know, and who didn't see ghosts. Dean stuck his hands in his pockets and walked, wondering why people would willingly sign up to be soldiers. He wouldn't say he regretted fighting – he couldn't have let Hogwarts burn – but he wished that there was an escape to the aftermath.

Dean put off going home until long after the sun had set. He didn't have anything he wanted to go home to. Maybe he could get a pet. Ginny had a pygmy puff. It hadn't seemed like a lot of work. It might be nice to have a pet. He unlocked his front door and stepped in, flicking on the light. Everything was the same. Dean curled on his small couch and flicked on the much-loved television that his stepfather had donated to his flat. It was something to do with his evenings. Another reason to want to work at the book store – he could find things to read. Catch up on what had happened in the muggle world while he had been buried in life at Hogwarts.

He was almost done with the comedy that was on when he heard a knock at the door. Dean tensed, feeling that his wand was still in his pocket, though hidden by his t-shirt. He would never have an unexpected guest. He approached his door slowly, as if it were going to blast inward and he'd have to apparate away. Nothing of the sort happened and he cracked the door, finding Seamus slouching in the hall.

"Hi!" Dean blurted. He'd come back?

"You alone?" Seamus asked.

"Yeah."

"Do you want to be?"

"No." Dean pushed his door open to let Seamus through.

"I did bring burgers and chips as a bribe, you know, if the answer to that question was 'yes'."

He had the take-out bag in one hand, his fiddle case in the other, along with a battered bag slung over his back.

"Moving in or something?"

"Nah. Just don't trust my drunk band with my things."

"I'm more trustworthy?"

"You're not drunk."

Seamus put the take out on the coffee table and leant the fiddle case and the bag at the end of the couch, then, dropped himself onto it.

"Don' have the energy for the table."

Dean didn't mind eating there. He moved Seamus's feet so that he could sit too, draping Seamus's legs back over his thighs. Seamus stretched and then grabbed at the food.

"Did you play tonight?" Dean asked.

"I did," Seamus said. "Eat your dinner."

"Bossy," Dean accused.

"You like it," Seamus proclaimed boldly but he wasn't wrong.

"Thanks for the food."

"Well, figured someone should feed you," Seamus snorted.

"I did eat lunch!" Dean proclaimed. "With Neville."

"The not boyfriend."

"Right."

"And your only friend."

"I've other friends!" Dean said, propping his food container up along Seamus's shins. "Neville's just the only one I see."

"At least I know he's real."

"Tell me about your bandmates," Dean said. "How'd you meet them?"

"In a pub.'

"So, the usual story."

Seamus laughed. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess. Being homeschooled, I didn't meet a lot of other kids. Mostly just at home. Hard to make friends. I met Charlie first, that's our singer. He adopted me into the fold. Guess he liked my talents."

"Did you sleep with him too?"

"Accusing me of being a whore?" Seamus asked, but he just rolled his eyes. "No. You don't mix business and pleasure. It's a life rule."

"So …"

"So, I've never slept with my bandmates. I just keep boys in all the cities I go to."

Dean quirked an eyebrow quickly at that. Should he be crushed? Seamus laughed at his expression.

"You're the only one waiting on me."

"Wasn't waiting," Dean insisted, hurriedly focusing on his food, wondering if Seamus could notice his blush. He doubted it.

"No? Then why were you alone?"

"Accusing me of being a whore?" Dean asked and Seamus just laughed again. "You don't need company every night."

"I've been buried in people," Seamus snorted. "I get that."

"And here you are."

"You're just one. And you're a lot easier on the eyes."

"I'm glad –"

"And you've a real bed," Seamus added. "I'm partial to those."

Seamus put his empty food container back on the coffee table and Dean hurried to get through his last bites, half-throwing his rubbish onto the tabletop just so that he could pull at Seamus's legs. Seamus fell into him.

"See, you did want me to come back."

"I don't remember saying I didn't."

Seamus threw his legs over Dean's lap, facing him. He stretched up so that he was just the slightest bit taller than Dean and Dean wondered if he was doing it on purpose. His nose caressed Dean's.

"Admittedly, I'm really tired."

"Gonna fall asleep on me?"

"Not even close. Just going to make you do all the work."

Dean wrapped his arms tightly around Seamus's waist, his hands creeping underneath of his shirt. He felt a raised mass of skin.

"More burns?"

"Exactly," Seamus said. "Guess you know me already."

"Not well enough."

"Careful," Seamus warned, "or you'll get close to owing me a real date."

Dean bit his lip, thinking that it wouldn't be the end of the world. It would probably be fun to go out with Seamus. They'd laugh and maybe actually enjoy a drink in each other's company but he didn't know if he should say it quite yet. Seamus was already unbuttoning Dean's shirt and Dean thought that if Seamus came back a third time, if the moment now weren't a fluke, then he might ask. If Seamus didn't blurt it out first; he seemed like he might.

But then Seamus was kissing him and Dean forgot everything else except for the feeling of Seamus's legs, wrapping even more tightly around him when Dean carried him off to bed.

(-.-)

"Tell me about your mum," Seamus requested.

Dean wouldn't say, necessarily, that he wanted to talk about his mother when Seamus was wearing nothing but underwear, their legs tangled underneath the blanket. But Seamus's fingers were stroking along the inside of Dean's forearm and Dean would have told him anything.

"There's not much to tell. She married my stepfather when I was young. I've younger siblings. She loves being a mum; likes to cook. Doesn't always know what to say or how to say it but she's good at just _being _there. Which is sometimes more important."

Seamus nodded. "You like your stepfather?"

"Mhm," Dean mused. "He's the only dad I've ever known. He doesn't really understand me but he tries. That's important too."

"An' your dad?"

"Never knew him," Dean said. "Used to dream about it when I was little. Now, my life is good without him. Why risk that?"

Seamus's leg hitched high over Dean's hip and he shifted ever closer to Dean. Dean softly kissed the top of Seamus's head and Seamus sighed.

"I have to play again tomorrow."

"Every night?"

"No, not every night. I'm just exhausted."

"I thought you liked playing."

"I love it, I do, but I'm just … tired. It's a lot of travelling around too. Getting from place to place. There's so many busses. After this, I'm never getting on one again."

"Going to teleport?"

"Would if I could."

"I thought you were magic," Dean said, trying to sound teasing even though the words didn't fit properly in his mouth. "Did you learn a card trick?"

"Learnt two. I'll show you in the morning after you make me breakfast."

"What makes you think I can cook?"

"You'll figure it out."

"Arrogance."

"No," Seamus corrected, a bright smile on his face, "arrogance would be saying you'll figure it out _for me_."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I fail to see the difference."

"I learnt card tricks for you! The least you can do is put porridge in a bowl!"

Dean couldn't help himself. He kissed Seamus again, pushing him down against the mattress. Seamus melded to him again, his arms wrapping around Dean's waist.

"Do you need to leave early tomorrow?" Dean asked.

"Three in the afternoon, at the latest." Seamus trailed his hand down Dean's chest. "Three-thirty."

"Means you get to make lunch."

"Do you have food?"

"No."

Seamus bit gently down on Dean's shoulder. "I can eat you."

"More like a lolly. Licking will get you more than biting."

Seamus laughed. "What! That was sad."

"It's, like, four a.m."

"Sleep with me, then."

There was a statement that Dean could agree with. He settled back into the mattress and pulled Seamus's back to his chest, wrapping his arms around him. Seamus burrowed into the blankets, pulling them all the way up to his face. He was the most comfortable pillow that Dean had ever had and he was so tired he nearly fell asleep the moment his eyes closed.

Dean woke suddenly the next morning, realizing that he and Seamus had barely moved all night. The sun was shining through the open curtains and Dean blinked rapidly, realizing that the first time in so long, there had been no nightmare. Call it exhaustion, call it comfort, he had slept through the night. He hid his head down against Seamus's shoulder blade but the man next to him didn't stir. He couldn't help but put his hands all over Seamus's smooth skin and bumped burns, reassuring himself that the other man was real. Dean bothered him until Seamus turned over in his grasp, one eye popping open in order to look at Dean's face.

"Oh, still you."

"Did you want someone else?" Dean asked.

"No," Seamus admitted. He turned back over so that Dean was staring at the back of his head but he still snugged deeper into Dean's body. "Shh. We're not waking up yet."

Well, okay. Dean grasped him further around the waist and they felt more like one. Dean wasn't sure which leg was his and which leg was Seamus's, but it wasn't like that was important. He ducked his head down and his nose traced the inside of Seamus's shoulder blade. Seamus picked up one of his hands and their hands clenched tightly together. He kissed along Seamus's freckled back.

"What'd you dream of?"

"I thought we were still sleeping."

"You're not sleeping," Seamus accused.

"No," Dean admitted.

"So," Seamus asked sleepily, "what did you dream about?"

"Being in the woods," Dean admitted, surprising himself with the words. Usually, he didn't even like to admit that the woods were still so deeply engrained in him. _Running, running, running_. Never anywhere to go, never any resolution, just more memories that he was still running from.

"Camping?"

"Not quite," Dean said flatly. Despite Seamus's inquisitive personality, he didn't ask again. "I'm not a fan of the woods."

"I'm more high maintenance than that," Seamus admitted, and Dean snorted.

"You, high maintenance? I don't believe it."

"Sarcasm isn't hot on you."

"You're hot on me."

Seamus laughed at him, even though he nestled his head into the pillow further.

"Sorry for waking you," Dean whispered.

"Drunk band doesn't get up until at least two."

"I'm not drunk."

"This time," Seamus pointed out.

"And I was hardly last time," Dean said. "I might just like having you around."

"Uh-oh."

"What? Second time enough for you?"

Seamus turned over in his arms and his hand fluttered against Dean's cheek. His eyes were only half open as he murmured, "Sex was still good."

"Has nothing to do with me as a person?"

"If I didn' like you as a person, I wouldn't 'ave come back."

The words brought a smile to Dean's face, even though he didn't know if they should. "Does that mean you'll come back again?"

"Sure," Seamus said. "Is it too rude to want to spend more than one day?"

"No. I like you."

"Careful or you'll –"

"Be asking you on a real date?" Dean interrupted. "Would that be so bad?"

"That would depend on how you ask." Seamus's eyes opened and he kissed Dean softly. "Asking is better done after breakfast."

Dean trailed his hand down Seamus's chest, feeling his morning hardness.

"Know what's better done in the morning?"

Seamus quirked an eyebrow and grabbed at the flesh of Dean's thigh. "You?"

"Me."

Seamus looked a bit more awake when he reached for Dean again. Dean felt alive from the inside out and kissed Seamus, Seamus sliding underneath of Dean neatly so that Dean couldn't do anything but straddle him, his weight settling over Seamus. In the hottest way possible, Seamus tucked one hand behind his head, the other just barely cupping Dean's cock, daring him to work it himself. Dean reached below him, grabbing Seamus's cock in his own hand and positioning it. He let loose a non-verbal spell making sure that he was ready, though he wasn't sure that this exact scenario was what Professor Lupin had been thinking when he was insisting that they be able to perform non-verbal spells. He sank down over Seamus, bending to kiss him at the same time.

"_Dean_," Seamus sighed and the sound of his name made Dean grin.

"Tell me about your boys in other cities," Dean taunted.

"Shut up," Seamus said.

"Make me."

With a strength that Dean didn't realize that Seamus had, he flipped Dean underneath of him, pressing into him quickly. Dean's hands clenched into the pillows by his head. He could barely breathe when it came to the way that Seamus's hands and mouth felt on his body. Hot, _needy_ – the way that Dean needed to be touched by Seamus.

"Kiss me," Dean begged.

"I only kiss my other boys," Seamus taunted.

"Maybe I didn't really want to kiss you anyway," Dean said, though neither of them really believed it.

"Shut up," Seamus said in a teasing tone, thrusting into Dean and Dean cried out, feeling like Seamus was going to bruise his hipbones. He'd love Seamus's fingerprints along his skin.

"You can make me by kissing me."

There was an edge in Seamus's eyes and Dean could tell that he didn't like anyone getting the better of him. That didn't stop him from finally kissing him, sloppy and heart stopping and Dean just wrapped all of his limbs around Seamus, clinging to him as Seamus's lips never left his. When they were done, sweaty and panting and still wrapped around one another, Dean just felt satisfied. Satisfied and happy. He was definitely happy.

"You owe me breakfast."

"We've time to just lay." Dean rolled over so that he was facing Seamus instead of being spooned by him. "Where'd this scar come from?"

Seamus glanced down, thinking. "Campfire. Backyard. I was nine, I think. Tell me about Neville."

"Why?"

"Your only friend. I need to know him."

"He's the one I got closest to in dorm. The other two boys were close friends and so we ended up bonding. Sometimes, I feel like he's the only one that understands. Other times, I think he's missing the big picture."

"Doesn't tell me much about him."

"He's clumsy. Wouldn't remember his head if it wasn't attached. Bravest mate I have." Dean raised his eyebrows. "You want to know about my friends but you won't let me take you on a proper date?"

"You won't ask."

Dean scoffed. "I'm tryin'!"

"After breakfast," Seamus said, and he pushed at Dean's chest. "Gives you time to think. I'm hard to impress."

"Oh, I don't believe that."

Seamus looked so indignant that Dean immediately rolled out of bed, reaching for pants so that he wasn't wandering around his apartment naked. He knew it was time to make breakfast. Or attempt to make. Dean was a big fan of frozen foods that he could slide in the oven, appearing at his family home if he was in the mood for home cooked. He knew his mother missed him and so he never felt badly about it.

"What? I look like that cheap of a date?"

"You came back," Dean said, and the words came out more quietly. A whisper after him.

"I told you I would."

"I just want to keep seeing you." It might have been a little too honest for how often they have seen one another but _Seamus _was just honest and open. Everything that came out of his mouth was honestly what he was feeling and it was hard for Dean not to reciprocate.

Seamus hopped up on the bed, reaching his hands out so that his rough palms slid across Dean's bare shoulders, pulling Dean backward into his hold. Seamus pressed a kiss to the back of Dean's neck.

"Well, I already came back once, didn't I?" Seamus asked, low in Dean's ear. "I'll come back again."

"Don't show up in the middle of the night next time," Dean said. "We'll go out."

"Go out where?" Seamus asked.

"A bar, drink, actually talk. A whiskey on the rocks for you –"

"Some kind of boring beer for you," Seamus drawled back. Dean wondered what Seamus would think of wizard drinks. "Hmm. I could be convinced."

"If I feed you, would you be a little more convinced?"

Seamus laughed. "You know me already."

He jumped from the bed, tripping over his own two feet. Dean followed leisurely, pleased at the sight of Seamus sitting on his kitchen counter, swinging his legs. As he began to hunt out ingredients for their breakfast, Dean dared to ask again.

"When do you think we should go on this date?"

"I dunno," Seamus said. "Depends on my schedule. And yours, I suppose. What am I going to do if I turn up one day and you're not home?"

"Wait," Dean said.

"Oh, he thinks I'm patient," Seamus said to no one. "Do you have a job?"

"Looking. I've got an application in to a local bookstore."

"Then, I guess I'll become a reader," Seamus said flirtatiously. "Well, get your job and then we'll see if we can figure a proper night out."

Dean took Seamus's hand, feeling overwhelmed by warmth. He'd never felt this way before and he wanted to run with it for as long as he possibly could. He thought of his fifth year at Hogwarts, when it seemed many of his classmates had started falling in love, fawning over one another at Madam Puddifoot's tea shop whenever there had been a Hogsmeade excursion. Dean had found people that he had liked very much but it felt different from the way that being with Seamus was. Perhaps it was because he was a little older now and there was none of that awkwardness of dancing around one another in school halls with the eyes of the gossip mill watching closely. Perhaps it was because Seamus was so much more open with his feelings and intentions that anyone else Dean had been involved with before.

Either way, Dean liked it.

Dean liked _him_.

They had woken late and spent a chunk of time trying to create an elaborate breakfast out of the few things that Dean had in his house. Watching Seamus actually whirl around the kitchen, it became obvious to Dean how he had ended up with so many burns. Seamus was chaos personified but Dean found it endearing, rather than annoying, and just wound up thinking how well they complemented one another. While Dean hadn't ever been quiet, per se, he yelled at sports games and had been known to chat in class, he was a little more reserved, focusing on his drawings and waiting to be invited into something rather than being the instigator. Once they had eaten their breakfast, though, Seamus glanced at the clock and Dean sighed to himself.

"See you again?" he asked Seamus, though it was more to assure himself and, judging by the grin on Seamus's face, Seamus knew it too.

"You will."

Seamus grabbed the front of Dean's shirt, pulling him downward and kissing him before gathering his things. Dean watched him go wishing that he knew when, exactly, he'd be back.

(-.-)

Seamus was not coming back.

It had been nearly three weeks since Dean had seen him and he was sure that he had scared Seamus off, with his talk of real dates after only seeing one another twice. It hadn't felt fast to Dean but the it could be yet another affect of the war. He felt cast out of the magical world, he felt out of step in the muggle one, and now he couldn't even quite figure out how to make friends. Dean could feel his wand where it was hidden inside the side of his boot but it didn't comfort him as it once had.

At least he had gotten a job. It took Dean's mind off some things and reminded him that he shouldn't keep ruminating on the past. He had, much to Neville's surprise, agreed to go to with he, Harry, and Ron for a drink sometime soon. They hadn't yet figured out a time to go and, so Dean could probably still figure out a way to get out of it as he had done before, but he had promised himself that he wouldn't this time. He had to do something besides hole up in his flat and go for long meandering walks. At least now he took muggle books home at night and curled up on his couch with them. He had to admit that electricity was easier to read with but it lacked the comforting charm of a fire.

"Goodnight, Dean."

"Goodnight, Archie!" Dean waved a hand to his co-worker as they locked the bookshop doors for the evening and Dean headed toward his flat, a new book in his bag.

Dean had begun reading romance novels, something that amused Archie to no end. Dean let him laugh, knowing that he couldn't explain to Archie how important it was to him that there was a happy ending and that the stakes really weren't that high. There was no fighting, no battles, no deaths. It was happy.

Dean walked down the hall toward his front door and then he heard music coming from behind his front door. Dean reached down and grabbed his wand, just in case. Though he couldn't imagine a twisted killer playing lively music while waiting for him to arrive home from work.

Dean opened his front door, holding his wand out in front of him. There was no one in his living room but there were sounds coming from the kitchen.

"Oi! Is that you?"

Dean hurriedly shoved his wand between the couch cushions before Seamus appeared.

"Did you break in?" Dean asked.

That cheeky look was back on Seamus's face. "Would you believe me if I said you left your door unlocked?"

"No."

Seamus shrugged. "Well, do you mind?"

"No," Dean admitted. "Where did you learn to pick locks?"

"One of those magic tricks I forgot to show you," Seamus said. "But, oh! I burn everything – I've been so careful so far!"

He turned his back on Dean and fled into the kitchen. Dean took the opportunity to hide his wand in a better place before joining Seamus. The kitchen was full of delicious smell, the likes of which it had never known in the time Dean had lived there. Seamus took a pot off the stove.

"Are you cooking to bribe me again?" Dean asked.

"Maybe I just like you." Seamus winked. "And maybe I'm hoping you like me enough to let me stay for two days."

Dean came up behind Seamus, wrapping his arms around him and resting his chin on the top of Seamus's head.

"Depends on what you made me."

"A traditional Irish stew, just like my Ma makes. Made with good beer, too, since the Irish know what good beer is."

"Let my drinking habits go."

"Never."

Seamus tilted his head up to look at him and Dean kissed him, wondering why he had ever been so worried that Seamus wouldn't come back.

"Now, sit. I'm serving," Seamus said bossily, pointing to the chair as though he could send Dean flying into it. "Were you out with Neville or did you get the job?"

"I got the job," Dean said. "I've liked it. I've been interacting with a lot of mu – mad people. This one woman – first day – asked me for Russian cookbooks. I told her I'd have to ask the other guy, Archie, since he's been there forever, and she told me off for not knowing what I was doing."

"Such a hard life," Seamus mused, setting down stew and bread for Dean.

"I like it." Dean had seen the hard life spilt in blood along Hogwarts's corridors. He didn't fancy that a bookstore could be worse, even on its most brutal days. "How's the band?"

"We've never been in such close quarters for so long before," Seamus said. "Charlie and Matthew have been at each other's throats for the last couple of weeks. I'm not the peace keeper – Not really my forte, you know."

"Oh, really?" Dean said dryly.

"Eat your stew," Seamus ordered. "And, how is it?"

"Could be made with better beer."

"Watch your tongue, Thomas."

Dean's eyebrows raised. "Or what?"

"I learnt magic tricks," Seamus said. "I could curse those eyebrows off."

Dean forced himself to laugh, though the word _curse _brought knots to his stomach. Then, he reached out, touching the burn marks along Seamus's forearm. "I don't think you'd need a curse for that."

Seamus shrugged but then he put his feet in Dean's lap like he had before and Dean figured that he was forgiven.

"Anyway, they're going to kill each other so, maybe, after this, we'll break up and I'll be stuck on street corners playing for money."

"Is that all you want to do?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Seamus said. "Being homeschooled was fun and strange and didn't leave me with a lot of need to ever do any kind of schooling again."

"I get it."

"But, we've got a two week break so maybe that will help."

"Oh," Dean said. "What are you doing for it?"

"Goin' home, see my Ma. It's …" Seamus tore a piece of his bread in half and then he sighed. "I feel like I can trust you, you know?"  
"I feel like I can trust you too."

"My Da died," Seamus confessed. "Only a year ago, now. He was sick for a long time an' that's why my mother homeschooled me. Didn't want me to lose any time. So, I'm going to see her."

"I'm sorry," Dean murmured.

"Thanks. Well, it's actually a lot better than watching him suffer." Seamus let out a breath and he tried to look jovial like he normally did but fell flat. Dean rubbed Seamus's shins. "It should be good, though, she's missed me. Though, my aunt and cousin live near so she's got people."

"When was the last time you were home?"

"Couple months. Christmas," Seamus said. "We talk but … It feels different without Dad around."

Dean had never known his father and so it was hard for him to imagine what that loss would properly feel like. He pushed away the empty dinner dishes and then stood. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"Couch," Dean said. "Wanna cuddle?"

"Oh, you're such a – Hey!"

Dean had swept Seamus out of his chair and carried him off to the living room.

"You're full of mush on the inside, aren't you?"

"Not entirely."

Dean dropped Seamus onto the couch unceremoniously but Seamus just offered a small smile, still subdued from whatever was on his mind, and pulled Dean down with him. Seamus liked to be the big spoon and Dean let him curl around him, Seamus's breath on the back of his neck.

"Thank you for dinner," Dean said. "I really did like it."

"Good, I figured you would," Seamus said and Dean could sense the smugness.

He put something on the television but then he rolled over so that he was facing Seamus. Their noses touched and Seamus wrapped an arm around Dean.

"An' I didn't burn down your building –"

"Which is an accomplishment for you."

"You should see me with a campfire," Seamus said. "You wouldn't believe it."

Dean felt like his throat was going to close up. Never again, throughout his entire life, was he going back into a forest. He knew that he couldn't take it but he didn't tell Seamus that.

"We'll get our hands on a grill sometime and see if you keep your eyebrows."

Seamus laughed. "Don't underestimate my ability to take off my own eyebrows."

"I won't, I won't."

Dean had just started to kiss him when someone knocked on his door.

"Dean, it's me," called a woman's voice and then his doorknob turned.

Dean sat up and barely had time to register Seamus's confused expression. He hissed, _"my mother!" _before the door opened fully and she walked in.

"You haven't come over in a couple of days and I wondered if you'd starved to death," she said, striding in. She turned immediately and her eyes lit upon Seamus. "Oh, you've got company. One of your friends from school?"

"No," Dean said. "Seamus was homeschooled. He had a very _different _education."

His mother was a smart woman and her eyes bounced between them once and then her brows raised. Dean felt a little bit of relief knowing that she understood what she was trying to tell him.

"Well, nice to meet you. Where did you two meet then?"

"At a pub," Seamus said.

Dean felt his mother staring at him again and he stood, reaching for the bags in her hands. "Can I help you carry anything, Mum?"

"I was just bringing you some food but something smells good. Did you cook?"

Dean ushered his mother into the kitchen, whispering, "he's a muggle."

"I understood that." Mrs. Thomas put her bag down on the kitchen counter and cast a disapproving glare at the dinner dishes that Dean and Seamus had left on the table. "Is he just your friend?"

"Not … really," Dean admitted, "but I don't know if it's serious."

Mrs. Thomas looked into the pot on the stove. "Did you cook?"

"No, Seamus made Irish stew."

"Seamus, your stew smells wonderful," Mrs. Thomas called and that summoned Seamus into the kitchen.

"Thanks, it's my Ma's recipes. Dean's letting me crash on his couch for a couple of days so I thought I should do something for him."

"Well, that's nice of him. No family in the area?"

"No, my family's all in Ireland still. I'm touring Europe right now with my band. Next stop is Germany."

"A band?" Mrs. Thomas repeated. "What do you play?"

"The fiddle," Seamus said.

"He's quite good," Dean said desperately. His mother and Seamus were such strong personalities that it was either going to go well or it wouldn't and Dean was hoping it would.

"Oh, fiddle music!" Mrs. Thomas said. "Really? My first date with Dean's stepfather, there was a fiddler playing on the bridge and we stopped and dance. We weren't very good dancers but I'm glad we did. It made me realize just how much fun I was having with him."

"Well, I've got it," Seamus offered, "if you'd like to hear me play."

"If you wouldn't mind."

Which was how Dean ended up sitting on his ratty couch next to his mother while Seamus pulled his fiddle out of its case. Dean smiled at him as he rested the instrument on his shoulder; he had seen how tired Seamus had been the last couple of times that he had been over and he was grateful that Seamus was willing to do this.

"Any requests?" Seamus asked, haphazardly swinging his bow.

"Play your favourites," Dean requested.

"All right. I've got a couple songs in me before I fall asleep," Seamus warned.

Then, he paused for a moment, and began to play.

Just like when Dean saw him in the park, he didn't want to take his eyes off him. He was flawless, his eyes half closed, never questioning what he had to do next. The music was loud and lively, chaotic and rhythmic. Watching him, Dean believed that music was magic and was half-surprised that he couldn't physically see the notes, dancing around Seamus as though he were enchanted. Seamus played them two songs before he bowed dramatically.

"Oh, that was wonderful! Thank you." Mrs. Thomas said. She glanced over her shoulder at Dean. "I should get going. Drop by sometime soon, okay? We miss having you at home."

"Okay, Mum, soon."

Dean kissed her goodbye; she offered a warm farewell to Seamus. Seamus returned her goodbye with his usual exuberance, though he barely looked up from putting his fiddle away. Then, Dean's mother was gone, and he fell back onto the couch, glad that his mother hadn't shown up any later because he and Seamus had a habit of not staying clothed around one another. Seamus shut his case and did the clasps and then he crawled onto the couch next to Dean.

"What are you doin' two weeks from Friday?" Seamus asked.

"Probably working until six. Why?"

"I've met your mum. Guess it really is time for a proper date."

"And that's how you're asking me?"

Seamus cocked his head to the side and half-looked at Dean. He raised an eyebrow and then smugly asked, "Are you goin' on a date with me or not?"

"I am."

Seamus didn't say anything – he just drew Dean's arm around him. He didn't have to say anything, though, for Dean to hear his _'I know' _echoing in his actions.

"So," Seamus said, "does your mother think we're friends or does she think I've seen you naked?"

"She knows we're not just friends," Dean said, "but I don't want to think about my mother thinking about me naked."

"Well, if she's thinkin' about me naked, you can tell her I'm too gay for that."

Dean jabbed him in the ribs. "Leave my mother alone!"

Seamus just laughed. "She was sweet. I liked her."

"You suckered her by playing those songs. You didn't have to, you know?"

Seamus snorted. "You should know by now you can't _make _me do anything. Plus, I always like to show off."

Dean pressed a kiss to Seamus's cheek and, before he knew it, he was on top of Seamus, kissing him languidly. Seamus was going to be staying for two days. He was going to have time to kiss him.

"Do you work tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

Seamus rolled his eyes. "I'll have to come visit you. Bring you lunch. Sex in the back room?"

Dean laughed but he knew he'd never be able to look at the staff room again without thinking of Seamus's words. "What am I going to do with you?"

Seamus looked back at him, eyes full of sleep. He kissed Dean once more before he said, "The more I see you, the more I want you to keep me."

"So you broke up with your boys in other cities?"

"Let that go," Seamus said. He cupped Dean's face in his hands, remarkably gentle for how frenzied he normally was. "I'll admit it. You're the only one I want to know." Then, he jabbed Dean in the chest, speaking with his usual energy. "But, you've gotten a lot out of me tonight and that's it for secrets."

"What kind of secrets do you have?" Dean asked, curling around him and making Seamus the little spoon this time.

"Mind-blowing ones," Seamus replied, flicking the television on once more.

Dean wondered if Seamus would have something more mind-blowing than magic to share. He didn't see how he could although he was curious about what else Seamus had to say. That curiousity was squashed, though, from the feelings of elation. He was the only one that Seamus wanted to get to know.

"Do you like monster movies?" Seamus asked, flicking through the channels.

"No. I like happy endings," Dean confessed.

"Mushy, mushy," Seamus said in a sing-song voice and then he glanced over his shoulder. "Do you have secrets?"

"Yeah."

"Good, I'd hate to think you were boring."

Dean laughed and Seamus settled on a sitcom. The laugh track boomed from the TV.

"There," Seamus said, "does that seem happy enough?"

"Sure."

Dean wasn't really paying attention to the television, though Seamus was, commenting on the jokes and the actors as they went along. He was thinking about how to tell a muggle about magic and when witches and wizards were allowed to do it. Did they have to be married first? The wizarding world was slightly out of date so it wouldn't surprise Dean if that was in the rules but what about those witches and wizards who had children with muggles before being married? Or those who had been together for years but had no intention of getting married? Perhaps he should ask Ron and Harry when they all met up with Neville. They worked in the government now. If they didn't know, surely they could find out easily.

It got late before Dean realized that it was doing so and when he pushed himself up on his elbows, he realized that Seamus had fallen asleep. Dean untangled himself from Seamus a little and sat up, making a decision. He scooped Seamus up from the couch – he was heavier than Dean expected but he was short and stocky – and carried him off to the bedroom. Seamus half-stirred.

"I'm not _that _little," he said insistently but sleepily.

"You complaining?" Dean asked, rolling him into the bed. "I could have left you on the couch."

"No," Seamus repeated, squirming out of his pants and then face-planting into a pillow. "Don't leave me on the couch."

Dean changed out of his jeans and into pyjamas before finding a spot of bed that Seamus hadn't spread himself out on. Seamus curled around him and whispered, "I like being in your bed."

"Because it's a real bed?"

"Do you forget anything?" Seamus asked. "No. I like you."

"Good, I like you too."

Seamus kissed him and then curled beneath the covers. Dean stayed awake a for a little longer, just basking in the happiness that he was starting to feel for life in general.

(-.-)

Dean had more bounce in his step as he walked into the Leaky Cauldron than he had been expecting to. He had his real date with Seamus tomorrow night, he hadn't had a nightmare in four days, and he had spent his day off with his younger siblings. He felt a little wary surrounded by magic again and magic users but he hurried into the back booth where Neville and Ron were already sitting, trying to ignore the prickly feeling on the back of his neck.

"Dean, hey!" Ron said. "How's it going? Neville says you've been living a muggle life."

Ron looked interested and Dean wondered if it was because of Hermione. Ron had never been disinterested in muggle life – he used to poke at Dean's West Ham posted in their Hogwarts room often – but he had never seemed as into it. Perhaps, though, it was out of pity. He and Ron had never been as close as he and Harry were but Ron was a good friend. Ron might just be interested because Neville had told them enough of what kind of life he was living now.

"Um, yeah, yeah, you know, spending time with my family and just trying to find a normal again," Dean said hurriedly. "Is Harry here?"

"First round's on him," Ron said with a jerk of his head.

Dean glanced over and spotted Harry, leaning on the bar and talking to Tom the barman.

"So, um," Dean fished around for a topic. "Did Hermione decide to go back to school in September?"

Ron snorted. "Of course. She'd live there forever if she could. She might off Pince just so that she could move into the library."

"After all you three did, do you really think she'd stay in a library forever?" Neville asked.

"With all we did," Harry said, setting their drinks on the table, "Hermione would be _grateful _to stay in a library forever."

"Cheers to that," Ron said.

"And cheers to still being here," Harry said.

It was a dark toast but Dean participated all the same. As hard as life could be right now, he was glad that he still had it.

"Have you been all right, Dean?" Harry asked. "We haven't heard from you."

Dean tried not to glance at Neville, knowing that he had shut everyone else out. It wasn't intentional but Neville had always been easy to talk to. Soft but passionate, Dean considered Neville his best friend.

"Got a job at a muggle bookstore. Been … been seeing someone."

For a while, Dean had dated Ginny, who was with Harry – who had started dating Harry not that long after Dean had stopped dating her. Dean didn't feel bad about it. Ginny was wonderful but she and Harry seemed to be a much better match. And, ever since Dean had bought Seamus a drink, he had to admit that he hadn't thought of anyone else.

"Well, tell us," Ron said. "What's she like?"

"That's the thing," Dean said, "it's not a 'she'. His name's Seamus. He's in a band. He met my mum the other night and she thinks he's charming."

"Seamus?" Ron said. "Did he go to Hogwarts?"

Something inside of Dean exhaled. This could have been another thing that he could feel cast out of his world for. Who he loved was as much of a part of him as his magic was but they were both things that could alienate him, as much as he didn't wish it were true.

"No. He's a muggle."

"I'm glad you're happy," Harry said, but Dean had expected that. Harry was probably one of the nicest people he'd ever met but he had enough tenacity to not be run over by someone as explosive as Ginny. "I'm glad you're here. Neville said –"

"I didn't mean anything by it," Neville blurted but Dean was staring at Harry.

"That you were avoiding magic."

Dean shrugged. "I'm probably not the only one. I was hunted. I'm not a Pureblood. Hunted by magic for my magic. I didn't pick that. I wouldn't not pick magic – I'd always miss that part of me – but I need …"

Dean trailed off. He didn't know what he needed. Time, he supposed, more than he already had. He needed to bring it back into his life. He remembered his summers off from Hogwarts, missing practicing spells and waving his wand about. He had, like many, been waiting to turn seventeen so that the laundry would do itself and potions could be brewed and so many other things that would just be magic. But everyone at the table seemed to understand.

The conversation meandered from there – the ministry, the bookstore, Ginny and Hermione and Seamus. They stayed late enough that they ordered dinner from Tom and when their plates were cleared, they went their separate ways. Ron, Neville, and Harry apparated off and Dean decided to walk, even though it wasn't a short walk. He had a good time with his friends but he felt uneasy. Uneasy but, by the time he arrived back at his flat, determined. He was going to use magic again. He was _not _going to bar himself from his world. _They _had won; Voldemort had not. The Wizarding world was _his _world.k

Dean unlocked the door to his flat, which was as quiet as he'd left it. He knew Seamus was playing a show tonight and he knew that he would be alone. He pulled his wand from his pocket as he sat down on his couch, summoning the television remote into his hand. The remote quivered, like it wasn't going to do it, but then it was in his palm.

It wasn't much, Dean thought as he manually pressed the remote's buttons, but it felt like a lot.

(-.-)

"Not that I don't appreciate the long legs but I don't have them!"

Dean shortened his steps yet again, Seamus padding along to keep up with him.

"Come on, short stuff."

"I could kick your arse."

"Only if you kiss it better."

Seamus winked at him and then he reached out, shoving his hand in Dean's back pocket. "I'm claiming this ass as mine."

"Not even ten minutes into our first date and I'm already yours?" Dean teased.

Seamus's hand pulled out of Dean's back pocket but before Dean could miss his touch, Seamus's hand was in his own.

"Oh, _maybe_," Seamus said. "Unless you've got someone else in this city that you haven't told me about."

"You probably would have found them when you broke into my apartment if that was the case," Dean said.

"I didn't _break _anything," Seamus said. "That seems to be a pretty important part of breaking and entering."

"You are too much."

"For you? I don't believe it," Seamus scoffed.

Dean had to pause and press a kiss to Seamus's lips. Seamus grabbed onto his hips, commanding as he was small. Dean could have kissed him forever, as he always felt, but Dean pressed a kiss to his forehead and then took his hand again.

"What, do you not find me cute anymore?"

"I always find you cute," Dean said, "but I want our real date."

"He likes me," Seamus hummed to no one as he skipped along beside Dean.

"What makes you think I didn't?" Dean asked, half-surprised.

"Nothing," Seamus replied. "That's what I like about you. You've never made me wonder and that's hard. I've known people who have kept me guessing. It's not worth it. I like that you're honest."

"Is that the only reason you like me?"

"No," Seamus said. "Call it a perk. But the fact that you _won't _tell me where we're going is a reason why I dislike you."

"One more street, come on!"

Dean pulled him into the bar, finally. It was slightly crowded, homey even though it was on the large side, and the stage was the focal point. There was no band playing on it tonight – rather, it was karaoke night. It was the type of thing that Dean never would have found himself in but he thought that it would be fun with Seamus. It would be worth it with him.

"Oi! Oh!" Seamus's eyes were glittering. "Yeah, all right, come on, let's split a pitcher of good beer and pick a song."

"_Pick _a song?" Dean said but Seamus was already halfway to the bar, dragging Dean along by the tips of his fingers. "We're not just going to watch?"

"What fun would that be?" Seamus asked, plopping Dean down at a stool. "Do you want to have fun or not?"

"You get to pick the beer or you get to pick the song," Dean said. "Final offer."

Seamus half-rolled his eyes. "You're English, you don't get to pick the beer."

Seamus ordered for the two of them and then turned to face Dean.

"I don't know your favourite song," he said.

"I don't know if I have one," Dean said, unsure of how to tell Seamus who the _Weird Sisters _were.

"What? Ridiculous," Seamus said.

"Is this a musician thing?"

"Call it what you want but you've got to have one."

"What's yours?"

"Mmm, the first song I ever wrote."

"That's a cop out."

Their beer was sat on the bar between them and the bartender filled their glasses.

"It's not. Try a good beer."

"I've had more than one kind of beer, I don't know why you're holding that against me."

"First date doesn't mean first meeting," Seamus said. "I've got stuff to hold against you."

"You're lucky you're cute."

Seamus grinned at him and Dean was glad they had done this. A real date was what they needed, Dean decided. Not that he hadn't liked Seamus before but there was a certain expectation that came along with Seamus showing up at his apartment and then leaving again with no idea on when he'd be back. Dean liked him a lot more than he'd ever thought he would and he wanted to make sure that Seamus knew it. This date was a good way to say it.

"You can't dump me after this, though," Seamus said.

"Oh? Why not?"

"I told my cousin, Fergus, about you," Seamus said.

"Not your mum?"

Seamus grinned. "I love my mother but she's like me. She's a lot. So, if we were gettin' married, I'd tell her the night before so she'd have less time to get opinionated."

"So, what did cousin Fergus say?"

"He just wanted to know if you were fireproof and told you to invest in a good extinguisher," Seamus said. "I might have also taken his eyebrows off a time or two."

"You don't sound all that sorry about it."

"First time, I was. Second time, he knew what was going to happen when I started, uh, throwing things in the fire. Burn you once, shame on me, burn you twice, shame on you."

"I don't think that's the saying," Dean said. He picked up his beer. "All right, I'm going to go pick a song."

"Surprise me," Seamus said, "but pick something good."

"I'll try."

Dean kept glancing over his shoulder as he looked through the songs. Seamus was chatting with the man sitting next to him but he kept meeting Dean's eyes and grinning at him. Finally, Dean found a song, put them on the list, and returned to his bar stool.

"Finding friends?" Dean asked as Seamus turned away from the man he'd been talking too.

"You the jealous type?"

"Do I have to be?"

"No," Seamus said. "So, you found something?"

"Mhm. We're a couple people away though so I have time to drink more and prepare for it."

Seamus laughed. "Stage fright?"

"I've never been on stage so I don't know." It couldn't be that scary, though, and even though he wasn't a good singer, he couldn't be worse than the trio currently attempting the Spice Girls. "Does picturing them all in their underwear actually work?"

"I've never been nervous," Seamus said, "so I've never tried."

"Not _ever_?"

"Not ever on stage," Seamus said. "I know a lot of strange things and I've done some strange things but the performing has just always felt right for me."

"You're good at it," Dean said.

"I know. So," Seamus said, "why did you buy me a drink the first day we met?"

"You were cute. I saw your band, though it then, and then you were alone." Dean shrugged. "And you didn't seem like anyone I'd met. I just wanted to know what you were like … Why are you smiling?"

"That was just what I wanted to hear," Seamus admitted. "I want you to think I'm cute."

"And annoying. In my apartment, eating my food, stealing my bed," Dean teased.

"You miss me when I leave," Seamus said. "I know you do."

"Don't you miss me when you leave?" Dean asked, feeling like he knew the answer but wanting to hear it anyway.

"Another pitcher?" the bartender asked before Seamus could even open his mouth.

"Please," Seamus said but he didn't take his eyes off Dean. When the bartender was gone and they were alone as they could be in a crowded bar, he placed his hand on Dean's thigh, much like he'd done in that first pub. "You're most of my thoughts."

"Now who's full of mush?"

"I still say it's you but I'm kind of into it."

"Only kind of?" Dean asked, topping of Seamus's beer.

"You want me to confess I'm madly in love with you or somethin'?" Seamus asked and then he grinned. "Not yet."

"Yet?"

"I said what I said. Drink up. What do you think?"

"I think I like the sound of yet," Dean replied, his heart thudding in his throat. _Yet_. It was the most precious thing he'd ever heard.

"I meant about the beer," Seamus said, laughing and Dean felt a flash of embarrassment. "But, I am really glad to hear that."

They were leaning in toward one another and Dean was already anticipating the kiss when a booming voice reverberated around the bar.

"And, next up, we have Dean and Seamus singing _Twist And Shout!"_

Seamus jumped from his bar stool and grabbed Dean's hand, pulling him toward the stage while saying something about the Beatles that Dean didn't quite catch. Seamus jumped onto the stage and Dean followed him. He had enough to drink that he didn't feel as nervous about being there as he was expecting but he already knew that he was going to pale in comparison to Seamus. He took the second microphone and then faced the karaoke screen.

_"Well, shake it up, baby now (shake it up, baby)_

_ "Twist and shout (twist and shout)_

_ "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, baby, now (come on baby)_

_ "Come on and work it on out (work it on out)!"_

As it turned out, Seamus absolutely could _not _sing. Whatever he could do with a fiddle did not carry over. But he was dancing about, sidling close to Dean in his dramatic actions, and Dean couldn't help but dance along with him. He laughed aloud and missed a line but Seamus picked up the slack.

_"Come on and twist a little closer, now (twist a little closer)_

_ "And let me know that you're mine (let me know you're mine."_

Dean stared into Seamus's eyes, not having to look at the words to sing the last few lines. The music faded and they replaced their microphones and jumped from the stage as the announcer returned to call up the next act. Their barstools were still open and Seamus led Dean back to them, his face flushed.

"That was awesome!"

"You sound like a duck being strangled."

Seamus rolled his eyes. "Well, you sound like a cat being run over."

"We're quite a pair."

Seamus raised his glass. "Cheers to that."

Dean clinked his glass against Seamus's and then took a long drink. They closed the bar down, singing two more songs which probably sounded worse and worse with the more drinks they consumed. Dean picked the song every time, Seamus refusing to relinquish his control over the beer ordering. They left the bar in the cool hours of the morning with a group of people who headed off in the opposite direction. The streets of London were never completely empty but they felt quite alone as they headed back to Dean's flat, tripping over one another and their voices being much louder than they normally would be.

Seamus was in stitches. "And were you listening to the couple next to us?! He was goin' on about his wife and then … He's not sittin' with his wife!"

His accent had gotten thicker and deeper with every drink that he consumed and he had started tripping over his own feet. Luckily, there was no one for them to run into as they weaved back and forth.

"I don't know how people can do tha'," Seamus said, sounding more serious than gleeful.

"Do what?"

"Cheat. I am the most untrustworthy person –"

"I don't think you're untrustworthy," Dean interjected.

"On paper. I'm nutters, generally, and I'm a musician. A travelling musician now! And I screw before the first date!"

Dean laughed.

"I'm a one-person show," Seamus said and then he grabbed onto Dean's hands.

"I told my friends about you," Dean said.

"What did they say?"

"They just wanted to know that I was happy."

"Are you?"

"Yeah."

Dean let Seamus into his flat and barely had the door shut behind him when Seamus's hands were on him, pulling at his shirt to bring him down for a kiss.

"I liked our first date," Dean said.

"Me too but I was expecting to."

Seamus was leading him backward toward the bedroom.

"Are we going to have a second date?" Dean asked.

Seamus pushed him down onto the bed, straddling his hips, and Dean thought of his wand pushed down in his sock. He needed to take his own pants off but that thought was far away when Seamus just looked down at him.

"You should be my boyfriend," Seamus said. "I want you to be my boyfriend."

"You need to work on your asking technique," Dean said.

Seamus laughed. "But what do you think, though?"

"My boyfriend the travelling musician. Who knows what he's doing when he's gone?"

"Immediately turnin' around and comin' back!" Seamus said. "Or, at least, always thinkin' about comin' back when I can't manage it."

"I can come to you one time, if you want."

"Nah, no point in you wastin' money yet. If I move back to Ireland after this, that's when you'll have to start runnin' back and forth."

Dean grabbed Seamus and rolled Seamus underneath of him. He kissed him deeply, his hands sliding underneath of Seamus's shirt.

"If you take my pants off, I'll take that as a yes," Seamus said.

"I thought the yes was obvious."

"I like to hear things."

Dean slid his own pants off, kicking them under the bed and making sure that his wand went with them. He hovered over Seamus for a second.

"I feel bad for you."

Seamus quirked an eyebrow. "Why's that?"

"It's going to suck being my boyfriend."

Seamus laughed. "No, I don't think so."

"We'll find out."

"I can't wait," Seamus drawled.

But, then, Dean didn't want to talk anymore. He made quick work of getting Seamus's clothes off him and then slid his mouth down Seamus's length. Seamus groaned, his hands sliding over Dean's head but Dean didn't have enough hair for Seamus to get a good grip on and his fingernails ended up sliding and grabbing onto whatever part of Dean that he could reach. Dean had been intending for them to take their time tonight but the alcohol kicked in and, before Dean knew it, Seamus was biting his way down the length of Dean's body. Dean couldn't control the noises that came out of him as Seamus used his mouth and fingers as skillfully as he wielded his bow.

"_Fuck_," Dean cried.

"No," Seamus said, "fuck me."

It was dawn by the time they fell onto separate pillows, facing one another and covered in sweat. Seamus propped himself up on one arm, looking down at Dean, and Dean felt more exposed than he had when Seamus had first checked him out. It was a good kind of exposure, though; he wanted Seamus to know everything about him and he wondered when the right time to explain magic to Seamus was.

"There's something I want to tell you," Seamus whispered, his face half-shadowed by the early morning grey light, "but I don't think I can say it yet."

Dean frowned. "What's that mean?"

"You got me too drunk is what it means. There's things I want you to know about me but I'm not ready to tell you. Or, I don't think you're ready to hear it."

Dean turned on his side, reaching out to place his hand on Seamus's side.

"I've got things like that too," Dean assured him, "but I think we've got time."

Seamus pressed his lips to Dean's. "Good."

Seamus curled down against Dean's side.

"Do you have to leave later?"

"Not if you don't want me to."

"I don't."

Dean curled around Seamus's small, warm body feeling as though he never wanted his new boyfriend to leave.

(-.-)

Dean woke up not long after they had fallen asleep by a strange tapping sound. Dean half-rolled but Seamus was still blissfully asleep, stretched out on his side of the bed and into Dean's side. Moving carefully so that he didn't wake Seamus up, Dean pulled his wand out from under the bed and walked off toward the source of the noise. There was an owl at his kitchen window.

"Pig!" Dean hissed and then opened the window, grateful that his friends had sent the smallest owl possible for a moment before he remembered just how _loud _Pig was.

"_Silencio!"_

Pig didn't seem to notice that he wasn't making noise anymore and flew gleefully about the room while Dean hid his wand in a cupboard before dealing with Pig. Dean barely got the piece of parchment off the owl's leg. He scanned it quickly, sensitive to how small the apartment was and how every move Seamus made might be Seamus getting up.

_Dean,_

_ We're planning a get together the last weekend of August. It's a send-off to those returning to Hogwarts but we'll get you a birthday cake too. Let me know if you (and Seamus) want to come_

_ -Neville, Ron, Harry, Hermione_

Dean definitely didn't think any of his old dormmates had written it – it had the distinct flair of Hermione getting straight to the point but also signing everyone else's name.

Dean wrote _'I'll be there' _on the bottom of the parchment and then grabbed Pigwidgeon from the air and reattached the letter.

"Go back to Ron," Dean said and held the owl up to the window. Pig pecked his hand and then took off out the window.

Exhausted, Dean glanced at the kitchen clock. Two hours. He had only been asleep for two hours. He headed back into his bedroom where Seamus was still sleeping peacefully. Dean wanted to crawl back into bed with him but something stopped him. Instead, he reached for his sketchbook, flipping back through the few drawings he had done since the first night he and Seamus had spent with one another until he was looking down at Seamus's sketched face. Dean glanced between the drawing and the real Seamus. He was lying in much the same position but Dean liked how much more familiar he felt now.

He turned to a new page and brought out his pencils, no longer noticing how his eyelids drooped or how tired he felt. He drew Seamus again, this time unashamedly. He wasn't sneaking glances at a stranger, he was staring at his boyfriend, and he could practically hear how Seamus would tease him if he woke up and found Dean.

Then –

"Really? If you want nudies of me, there has to be an easier way to do it."

Dean laughed. "You haven't been nude in any of them."

"Well, why not?" Seamus asked, flamboyantly offended. "I thought you liked me nude."

"I do," Dean said. "Don't move, I want to get your face right."

Seamus closed his eyes again and remained as still as Dean had ever seen him.

"Why work in a bookstore if you want to draw?"

"Found out quick drawing doesn't pay the bills," Dean said. "And I don't really know what I want. My mates from school all went on to something better but I felt stuck. Like I couldn't make a decision."

"My ma hasn't gotten over the fact that she homeschooled me – 'put blood, sweat, and tears into giving you an education, Seamus' as she would say – and then I ran off to join a band."

"Put your hands down, I'm almost done."

"Bossy, bossy," Seamus muttered.

"You can't be the bossy one all the time."

"I thought you liked it when I was."

"I do but you can't be the bossy one all the time."

Seamus gave up arguing with him and settled back in the bed. He looked as though he'd fallen back asleep by the time Dean put the sketch to the side, thinking that he might have to add colour later, but as soon as Dean stood up, Seamus's eyes flashed open.

"Did you sleep at all?" Seamus asked.

"No. I … couldn't."

"Were you having one of those dreams again? You never stop moving when you do though, usually, I wake up." Seamus frowned.

"No, nothing like that," Dean said quickly and dismissively, not wanting to get into a discussion of what those dreams were. There was so much more he would have to tell Seamus to make him understand just why he was so afraid of the woods and he didn't know how to tell Seamus. It had been different, when he had gotten his Hogwarts letter and Professor McGonagall had shown up to his house to explain what magic was to him and his disbelieving parents. He had been eleven – magic had been but a dream at that point and it was so much easier to accept things at eleven, never knowing what they could turn into.

"Are you hungry? We could go for a morning after breakfast."

"Are you sure you don't want to go back to bed?" Seamus asked.

Dean shook his head. "Come on, breakfast date."

"Two dates back to back. I think you like me." Seamus hopped out of bed. He pulled on his jeans and then grabbed Dean's t-shirt to put on. "I'm keeping this, by the way."

"All right."

It was too long on him and Seamus half-heartedly tucked bits of it into the waistband of his jeans, but Dean would wager that it looked better on Seamus anyway. Perhaps he was biased. What did he know?

He dressed slowly and then followed Seamus down the street, hunting out a breakfast place they both deemed satisfactory. Dean was starting to get less picky and more hungry and he was glad when Seamus pulled him through a doorway and they were settled in the booth, ordering quickly to get their food quickly.

"When do you have to leave?" Dean asked.

"Tomorrow," Seamus said, "but not until later in the day. Five, six, maybe."

"I have to work tomorrow and I'll be there until six so you can leave earlier."

"Or, I can leave at seven. Make you dinner for when you get home."

Dean met his eyes. "You'd be late for the band?"

"They'll get over it. Besides, they might like having something new to argue over. An', I won't miss any shows so it doesn't matter. All that being said, though, I like touring. Always on the move, seeing new things, meeting new people. I almost don't want it to end."

Dean couldn't quite relate to that. He was quite glad to have settled down after constantly being on the move. Though he hadn't done the travelling that Seamus was and there hadn't been any enjoyment in his wandering. He wanted his flat and his ability to go home to his family and to have the knowledge that everyone he cared about was safe.

"And when it's done you'll go back to Ireland?"

"It's not that far," Seamus said.

"I can visit you, meet your family."

"I hear you have little sisters that I haven't met," Seamus said.

"So, you have to meet all of my family before I can even meet Cousin Fergus?"

Seamus flipped his fork around in his fingers. "Oh, if you're lucky. If you're unlucky, it'll be Fergus in your apartment next time and not me."

"You told him where I lived?"

"No, that's why I said unlucky. My mother is pushy but Fergus is nosy."

"So, definitely your family, then."

"Without a doubt."

They finished their breakfasts and promptly went back to bed. They kept waking up around one another. When Dean woke after four, he found the tea kettle on the stove and Seamus's empty cup in the sink, though he hadn't been aware of Seamus getting out of bed. One time, he thought he saw Seamus's eye half open when he was returning from a bathroom trip but Seamus didn't sit up and so Dean fell into the bed next to him again. It was nearly seven in the evening when they were awake again at the same time, stretching and yawning.

"Marathon dates are something everyone should do," Seamus said. "Nothing like a nap in the middle."

"We need a shower," Dean said. "We smell like the bar still."

"Are we showering together or not?"

"I want to. I like doing nothing with you as much as I like doing something with you," Dean added.

"Good."

As they stood under the flow of the water, Dean just kept thinking of the future. It had been hard to picture a future while on the run, keeping company with goblins and jumping at every other noise and watching the people that he'd been hiding with be murdered in cold blood. Now, he was thinking about whether or not Seamus would live in Ireland and how he himself would get back and forth to Ireland. Air fare couldn't be that expensive but could he afford it with his bookstore pay to go as often as he'd like or would it be cheaper, in the long run, to learn how to drive a car? But, was it ridiculous, to invest in a car when he had no idea how long he had Seamus would last? On the other hand, he had no reason to think that he and Seamus _wouldn't _last.

Dean kissed him under the water flow and Seamus looked bemused, his hair full of soap.

"What was that for?"

"I wanted to."

They took their time showering and eating, waking up after a long day and night. Dean was thinking about when he should go to sleep in order to have a full night's worth by the time he had to get up in the morning to go to the bookstore but he knew that he'd spend the night wide awake.

"Let's go for a walk," Seamus said. "It's still nice out."

It was dark but the night balmy, despite the breeze. They walked hand and hand along the sidewalk.

"So," Dean said, "I don't know what your tour schedule is like but … my birthday is coming up and my friends are having a gathering on the last weekend of August. I don't have any more details than that and I know it's a couple of weeks away …"

"I'll be there, I'll figure it out. I'm not missing your birthday."

"Yeah?" Dean said, excited at the prospect, but he did feel like kicking himself. _My friends_, he had said. It was sure to be a magical gathering and there was no way that Dean could ask for it not to be. He had set himself up to tell Seamus about all parts of himself but, honestly, he was more excited than nervous about the prospect.

"Good boyfriends don't miss birthdays. But, I'll definitely be back between now and then. I don't want to go a few weeks without talkin' to you." Seamus sighed. "I'll have to start pickin' up change, using payphones, I suppose."

"It's too bad you like being a travelling musician."

"Going to try to change me?"

"No."

Seamus swung their hands in silence for a moment.

"My da really loved my mum. _Really _loved her. I've fooled around, you know, but I'm not going to settle for less than that. He knew her so well. She always said he was her best friend first and she told me that no matter who I fell in love with, I had to have that or it wasn't going to work."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Seamus shrugged, Dean's t-shirt billowing around him. "I'm asking if we're friends too."

"Yeah, of course," Dean said. "I can tell you anything, I'd listen to anything you had to tell me. I'd help you through whatever I could and I know you'd be there for me. I'll tell you when your jokes aren't funny because I'll never lie to you. You know, everything that friends do. But, I don't want to just be your friend."

"I don't want to _just _be your friend either," Seamus said, "but what I expected when I first saw you was a one-night stand. I just want to make sure that we're on the same page."

Dean supressed a smirk. Hadn't he thought the very same thing when Seamus had left the first time? "I think we are on the same page."

Seamus stepped closer to Dean and wrapped Dean's arm around his shoulder. It was awkward walking like that but Dean didn't care. Seamus was close. That was what mattered.

(-.-)

Dean sat in his family kitchen, a tiara on his head and his nails painted badly. His sisters were still young enough to think that it was funny and Dean was more than happy to indulge them. To them, he was not a battle worn soldier but their older brother and it was nice to be like that.

"You can take that off, you know," his mother said. "I think they've moved onto dolls."

"And face the wrath if they come back in?" Dean asked and then shook his head. "No, thanks."

She nodded knowingly. "So, how's Seamus?"

"We're officially dating now and I have to ask you something."

"You can ask me anything."

"Did you really not know if my father was a wizard? He left when I was young, not while you were pregnant. You didn't see anything? Suspect anything?"

Mrs. Thomas stood, staring out her kitchen window. Dean dared not prompt her for anything, knowing that she was thinking about it.

"Perhaps. But, I really had no idea that magic existed until you turned eleven. There were a lot of things about you when you were little that I discarded, thinking that I was out of my mind. You used to draw pictures and show me them before you went to sleep and by the time we woke up, I would swear the people or animals or whatever you had drawn had moved during the night."

"Dad, Mum, not me."

"Your father and I were never in a very serious relationship, Dean, you know that. We never lived together. We didn't even do a lot of talking." Even all of these years later, she looked ashamed to admit it. "He knew I was pregnant. Was around a little more then but he never spoke of marrying me. The last time I saw him you were barely two months old." She took the seat across from Dean. "Are you thinking of going to look for him?"

"No. There's nothing that he can add to my life. I have a father and a family."

His words made his mother smile but he knew she was still wondering what he was asking for.

"I guess I'm asking because I can't hide magic from Seamus forever. I grew up a muggle and so I'm good at pretending but I don't want to pretend. How did you react when I got my Hogwarts letter? When they explained everything to you?"

"Things suddenly made sense. It was a relief, actually, after I got over the shock of it."

"It's the shock part that I'm worried about," Dean said. Pained though he was to say the next bit, he knew he had to place all of his trust in his mother, "I know how to erase his memories. I would have to or get the Ministry to do it if it went wrong. I don't even know at what point I'm allowed to tell him –"

"Professor McGonagall said that there was a Statute of Secrecy and that we weren't allowed to talk about it."

"Well, yeah, but I don't know the finer details."

He probably had, at one point, for a History of Magic exam but it would be a miracle of he could recall _anything _that Professor Binns had ever said in his years of schooling at Hogwarts.

"I'd avoid getting yourself in trouble first," she said, sounding very much like a mother but then her expression softened. "Does he really mean that much to you?"

"It's mad, actually, how much he does. He's amazing, Mum."

"Does he feel the same way?"

"Yeah, he does," Dean said confidently, thinking of how serious and contemplative Seamus had looked as he had asked if they were friends. He was sure of Seamus and of the feelings that he had for him. He was sure he could produce a full patronus just on the vaguest memories of his boyfriend.

"Dean! Where did you go?!" Two voices shouted from their upstairs bedroom.

Dean felt his mother's hand pat his shoulder as he ducked his head, the tiara coming dangerously close to falling off.

"Duty calls," he said.

"Make sure they leave you in one piece."

"I can always jinx them," Dean joked but at his mother's expression, he held up his hands. "I won't, though!"

"Dean!"

"I'm coming!" he shouted back to his sisters and then ascended the stairs, feeling that, although his talk with his mother hadn't actually solved anything, it did make him feel better.

(-.-)

Dean stared at the shelf, feeling like his brain wasn't working properly today. His birthday was in a week and a half and Dean had set that as the deadline for when he would tell Seamus the truth about him. The party wasn't happening until _after _his birthday so if Seamus needed time to acclimate, he would have it. But, Seamus seemed the type to take things in stride, accepting catastrophe as it happened and he seemed to like chaos. Someone didn't set themselves on fire that many times by being careful. The trouble was Dean had no idea when he was going to see Seamus again and that was causing him more anxiety than the rest of it. The talk might just be sprung on _him _and he was the one who had to have it.

Dean zoned back into what he was doing and groaned. "Rowling does _not _go next to Pullman, Rowling does _not _go next to Pullman," Dean chanted to himself in a hope to keep himself centred.

Then, "No, thanks, I'm just taking a look around."

That voice sounded a _lot _like Seamus's but, somehow, not. Still, Dean peered around the shelf that he was stocking. He knew who the voice belonged to on sight, if only because he looked like Seamus but standing in a carnival mirror. He was a little taller with facial hair clinging to his face and bulkier than Seamus was. Dean stared at him for a moment before realizing that he was working and supposed to be doing something else. Still, he frowned. Who was he looking at?

"Oi, hey, you're Dean, then."

Dean realized that, of course, the man was talking to him but he still stood, like a deer in headlights, while the man reached his hand out.

"I'm –"

"_Fergus_!"

That was Seamus's voice.

"Seamus, I didn't think you were going to be in the country for another –"

"And so you decided to come bother Dean? I don't think so." Fergus opened his mouth again but Seamus grabbed him by the collar of his t-shirt. "No, that's enough out of you."

"Seamus?"

"No, really, can't stay and talk. I'll see you on Wednesday night, I promise, seven o'clock."

"Did Auntie sell me out?" Fergus said. "Tell you I was comin' to London?"

"I am going to string you up by your ankles –" Seamus grumbled and then the door to the bookshop clanged shut with an innocent jingle of the welcome bells.

"Dean, do you know those two?"

Dean glanced at Archie, feeling as though he was just caught out of bed after hours from the way the older man was gazing at him. "Only one of them and the one I know wouldn't cause a scene."

Seamus didn't cause a scene – he was the scene. And, so, Dean didn't really feel like he was lying to Archie.

"I'd rather they didn't come back."

Dean gazed out the window. _Wednesday night, seven o'clock._

"They won't be back."

And he had just a little less than a week until he told Seamus the truth.

(-.-)

Dean spent the morning spinning his wand around on the table. It kept spitting out little sparks that never ended up actually setting the table on fire but when the embers hissed and scarred the tabletop, Dean knew he had to quit while he was ahead. He had ten hours until Seamus got here and he didn't need to stress himself out too much before that.

Ten hours.

Dean forced himself to eat breakfast but he was barely focusing on what he was eating. Instead, he was thinking about all of the things that he could explain to Seamus and how he could say it and nothing at all seemed right. Dean flopped down on his couch. His mother. He could reach out to his mother. Or any of his friends. Instead, he decided that he would make dinner for Seamus. It seemed like his boyfriend had done more cooking for him than he had done for Seamus.

He took his time getting ready, finding a recipe, and then with the actual grocery shopping, inspecting the produce fully, even though he wasn't sure what he was looking for in an onion. Finally, Dean had to accept that he had spent all the time he could outside and returned to his flat with his shopping bags. Dean unpacked his grocery and then he looked at the recipe he had before him but the ingredients barely mattered as he started preparing dinner.

_Seamus, magic is real._

Would he just think Dean was being mushy? After all, Seamus had learnt those muggle magic tricks.

_Seamus, this is my wand._

No, he knew what kind of innuendos would come of that.

_The boarding school I went to was a magic institute._

Dean sounded insane, even to himself.

Tap.

_I fought in a war, that's what those dreams are from. _

No, eventually. But he couldn't start with that. He had to start at the beginning. But what was the beginning?

Tap. _Tap._

_ When I was eleven years old, I started at my boarding school and it was called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

Not bad but was that the beginning?

Tap. _Tap. _Tap.

Dean whirled around, his heart in his throat. Anything could have happened while he was off in his own little world but there was no one in his apartment. At his window, was an owl that Dean recognized as the Longbottom family owl. Dean waved his wand and the window opened. The owl perched on the back of one of his kitchen stools and held out its leg. Dean pulled off the parcel and the owl stared at him expectantly.

"I don't have any treats," Dean told him and the owl ruffled its feathers and took back off through the open window before Dean could even think of whether or not he was supposed to respond.

Dean unrolled the parchment.

_Dean, wanted you to have this for your birthday. See you soon – Neville._

Dean unwrapped the package and saw the bottle of Firewhiskey. If all went well, he was going to be enjoying that with Seamus on his real birthday. If he was lucky. Was he lucky?

Smoke wafted by toward his open window and, a moment after, Dean registered something was burning a moment later. No, clearly he wasn't lucky. Dean ran back toward the stove, realizing that he had burnt the onions that he was supposed to be caramelizing and there was no hope of saving them. Defeated, Dean dumped them out and started chopping up the half of the onion that he hadn't used yet. _This _was why he didn't cook but Seamus, somehow, was so much better. There were domestic spells that he could use but he wasn't good at any of them. There was no class on housework at Hogwarts and he was going to have to go to Flourish and Blotts for a proper book on the thing. He could go back into Diagon Alley. Really, he could … If Neville went with him. Dean thought that he might still need Neville to accompany him.

He wondered what Seamus would think of the alley that had slowly started to reopen itself after the war. The beggars made of muggle-borns and half-bloods that Voldemort's regime had turned out would have been given their wands back, welcomed back to the Wizarding world that knew better. But, like Dean, would they be able to forget those months of hardship? Would fear still cause their hearts to beat like Voldemort was going to be behind them again? Voldemort might be dead but there were still people alive that had agreed with him and who had thought that he was in the right and that was what truly scared Dean. Someday, he might come face to face with someone who thought that because he certainly wasn't Pureblood that meant he wasn't worth anything and he might never know.

"Cook, focus," Dean told himself. "Come on."

He could lose himself down that rabbit hole for hours, sitting and staring at nothing while he relived those nights of terror. While he relived deaths and brutality until his throat felt like it was going to close up entirely and he wanted nothing than to break his wand over his knee and then flee to his mother's side, never to leave again.

_Seamus, there's something I need to tell you._

Add garlic.

_I trust you and I know you trust me but I need you to know all of me._

Stir. Keep stirring.

_I want you to know all of me but this is hard for me to say. I've never had to explain this side of me to anyone before. I don't want it to scare you away._

That seemed like a pretty good beginning, Dean thought, but he struggled to see things from Seamus's side. What would he feel, if he knew nothing and Seamus sprung all of this on him?

Dean moved his pans off the stove. Things were looking pretty well done. He wiped his hands and before he could even look at the clock, he heard a knocking on the front door. He knew who it had to be and he rushed off, feeling nervous about seeing Seamus for the first time ever.

"Hey," Seamus said, ducking under Dean's arm and piling his fiddle case and bag in their usual corner, "I'm sorry about Fergus. I told you, we Finnigans, we're all alike. An' I'm sorry I couldn't stay but I wasn't supposed to be back at all and I was on a tight schedule with takin' care of his nonsense."

"How did he find me?" Dean asked.

"What's that smell?"

"I asked first."

Seamus stopped in the living room. "I think before either of us answers anything you should kiss me."

Dean pulled Seamus flush to him, feeling Seamus lean up on his tiptoes to throw his arms properly around Dean's neck. Dean closed his eyes and pressed into the kiss. He could sense Seamus's feelings from the way that Seamus touched him and he thought that he shouldn't be so worried about what Seamus was going to think of his news. Seamus wasn't the type to run. Dean was sure of it.

"I set things on fire. Fergus finds things. That's his talent," Seamus said. "What smells good?"

"I cook … cooked," Dean said, trailing off as Seamus stepped into the kitchen.

The Firewhiskey! Had he hidden the Firewhiskey?

Dean bolted into the kitchen after Seamus, hoping to find him sniffing over the stove and ignoring the bottle, but Dean, it turned out, was not lucky at all.

"What is this?" Seamus demanded, more heat in his voice than Dean had been expecting. "Do you know what this is?"

"What? Of course, I –" Dean blubbered but then lost his words as Seamus sat the bottle down with a thud, glanced at the chair, and threw himself in it with a maniac laugh.

"Dean Thomas, don't tell me you're a wizard."

Dean must be going deaf. Or losing his mind. "What? I'm … You're a …"

"_I," _Seamus said, "have had no idea how to tell you. I was worried you'd cotton on by how quickly I was moving between countries. _Quick flights, _I thought I'd say, and then you'd laugh when I figured out how to tell you what the bloody hell apparition was."

Dean sat down on the floor.

"You've been apparating. That makes so much sense. Why you don't have a phone … It would be so hard to travel with an owl."

Seamus laughed again.

"Why weren't you at Hogwarts?" Dean asked.

"I told you the truth." Seamus slid down on the floor so that he and Dean were nearly at eye-level, though the entirety of the kitchen floor separated them. "Da was dying and Mum didn't want to send me so far away. I was supposed to go. Me dad's a muggle; Mum's a witch. Bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out. Didn't want to shock _you _like that."

"I went to Hogwarts. Fought in the war. I was on the run, camping out, waiting to die. I could be muggle-born, I could be half-blood, I don't know."

"My da might still be alive if it weren't for those dementors. They stole the rest of his life from him," Seamus said quietly. "Mum gave up for a little while after that. Fergus and I spent our time shielding muggles. Every charm or trick we could get our hands on to keep them safe without throwing it in their faces. I heard about that last battle. Is that what you dream about when you toss all night?"

"That and the running," Dean confessed. "But, where do you keep your wand? I've seen you turn that bag inside out …"

"In my bow," Seamus said. "I've never seen yours either."

"It's always in my sock and pant leg. There's a reason I always undress myself."

Seamus laughed and then flopped down on the floor. "You're a wizard. After all that worrying –"

"All _your _worrying? I invited you to my birthday and it's going to be all my magical friends! I had a deadline!"

Seamus sat up. "Prove it."

"Prove what?"

"That you're a wizard."

Dean pulled his wand from his sock and sent his patronus bounding across the floor. The beagle sniffed at Seamus once before running past Dean and then heading into the living room before disappearing entirely.

"You're really a wizard," Seamus murmured.

"You prove it," Dean said.

Seamus pushed himself to his feet and Dean got up to follow him, sitting on the couch again to watch Seamus open up his fiddle case.

"Is this why you're so good?" Dean asked. "Because you keep your wand there?"

Seamus looked offended. "You could take my wand and I'd play just as well! It's a good hiding spot, particularly since I'm playin' with a muggle band."

His wand slid neatly out of its hiding place.

"You told me you were magic," Dean recalled, "right after we first met."

"I am not known for my subtlety," Seamus said, and then his own patronus – a small, wiry fox – was waltzing around his living room.

"So, you're really a wizard," Dean said, watching the fox disappear at the same spot his beagle had.

"So are you," Seamus replied.

They stared at each other for a long moment and it occurred to Dean that there could be no more secrets between them, that they had shared everything with one another now. But he wanted to be sure.

"Of course this was my secret," Seamus said and then he seemed to realizing that he was standing awkwardly in the corner and he sat on the couch next to Dean. "I don't like hiding things. I'm not good at it. You've met me! But, while we're on the subject, I'm so burnt because any potion, spell, or unintentional magic I did for the past eighteen years –"

"Aren't you eighteen _now_?"

"– somehow went terribly wrong and more often than not it would explode. Particularly before I had any training. And that's how Fergus found you too, by the way. Magic."

"And you've been apparating back and forth?"

Seamus nodded. "I still had to make excuses to the band and, sometimes, we had such plans that I couldn't make it and I wanted to leave with enough time to at least make it a little believable but muggles made things up, connected their own dots. I wasn't too worried."

"I was."

"One of us needs to worry," Seamus said. "That's why we work."

"I can' believe it," Dean said. "I thought you were a muggle –"

"An' I thought you were a muggle."

"_Accio Firewhiskey_!"

The bottle settled itself nicely on the coffee table, just as Dean had requested.

"Nice. I'm going to break something. Watch. _Accio glasses_!"

Two glasses from Dean's kitchen cupboard burst forth and careened onto the table where they smashed into one another, breaking into multiple pieces.

"_Reparo_," Seamus said, almost lazily and the glasses put themselves back together.

Dean stared at the display of magic and how casually Seamus dropped his wand onto the coffee table.

"I see why you set so much on fire."

"Oh, don't mock met yet. My mother taught me cooking spells. That's how I've been feeding you."

"How did I not see it?"

"Neither of us were looking. I thought you were a muggle in a pub."

"That's what I thought you were," Dean said.

Seamus shook his head and then he threw his leg over Dean's, straddling him. Their noses pressed together.

"Anything else I need to know about you?" Seamus asked.

"There's nothing else I was keeping from you," Dean swore. "I wanted you to know. I wanted to know you."

Seamus kissed him and Dean felt electrified. He had been right, thinking that Seamus was magic.

"I'm going to be laughing about this until we die," Seamus said. "I missed a wizard, right in front of me!"

"And an owl."

Seamus frowned. "You don't own an owl?"

"No but my friends do. To be fair to you, I haven't been using magic much since the war ended. I've been easing myself back into it." He could see sympathy in Seamus's eyes and he couldn't really take it, even knowing how authentic it was. "I don't know how you resisted though if you grew up in a wizarding household."

"I liked you well enough the first time that I didn't want to scare you. Didn't want you to think I was a bad job. An' I didn't want to have to memory charm you. Knowing my luck, your head would just explode." Seamus laughed and kissed him. "We're magic!"

His face was pure delight and the next words out of Dean's mouth, he didn't mean to say but he meant them with his whole being.

"I love you."

Seamus stilled atop him. "Wha'?"

"I love you," Dean repeated and it all came out of him in a rush. "I don't care if you're only at _yet. _That's how I feel and I need you to know."

Seamus stared at him. "Promise me you mean that?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it."

Seamus kissed him again and Dean was aware of how quickly his heart was beating in his chest. He felt like he had been sprinting since Seamus had walked into his kitchen and he didn't have to feel like that anymore. There had been nothing to worry about all along!

"I can't believe you said it first."

"What?" Dean said. He'd heard the words; he just wasn't sure that he had heard them properly.

"He loves me," Seamus murmured.

Usually, Dean found Seamus's invisible audience amusing. Now, he reached up to grab onto Seamus's hands, bringing Seamus's attention back to him.

"I love you," Dean repeated and, just like he hoped, Seamus focused on him.

"I love you too."

Dean felt something inside of himself change. The part of him that had been running scared since the war seemed to settle. It wasn't dead; it wasn't gone. But, the fear that it would be the future was gone, because Dean was sure, after just a few short months, his future wasn't fear but his future was Seamus.

Dean pulled Seamus's shirt over his head, looking at the burn scars in a new light.

"Why didn't you heal them before they scarred?"

"Couldn't. I mean, they never hurt _me _– the first time I set Fergus on fire he felt his eyebrows go – but they just left marks. Mum tried – I told you she was good with that stuff – but it never worked."

"Was that why you told me I couldn't meet your mum? The magic?"

"No, she's great but scary. I wouldn't tell you 'no' if you asked but I'm waiting for you to ask."

"You met my mother."

"And you met my cousin."

"I wouldn't call that meeting."

"I would." Seamus turned around and poured them each a glass of Firewhiskey and took a gulp. "Talking about Fergus makes me want to drink."

"Is he that bad?"

"No. Yes. Who knows with family?"

Dean sipped at his Firewhiskey. "I want to know them. I want to know you."

"We'll see if you still love me after you've seen how I act around you friends."

The word love felt so natural between them. It was something that Dean never would have thought could happen, first seeing Seamus play his fiddle while Dean stood next to Neville. But Seamus was just as charming.

"Can't wait."

Dean hovered the Firewhiskey away before Seamus flicked his wand and sent everything careening into a wall but Seamus was tugging at his shirt and Dean hoped that _clink _was the sound of the glasses resting on the tabletop but, quite frankly, right now, he didn't care about anything but Seamus.

(-.-)

Dean apparated into Hogsmeade with a small pop. Learning to apparate without the loud bang had been difficult at first but, now, it was second nature to not make any more noise than necessary. However, Seamus whipped into existence next to him with a crack so loud that Dean was surprised the windows in the nearby buildings didn't shake.

"So, this is Hogsmeade."

"Surprised you made it."

Seamus shrugged. "Let's see this Hog's Head and if it's really as dirty as you described."

"Aberforth said he's been doin' more business lately but it'll never be _The Three Broomsticks_."

"Well, you'll have to give me a better tour of the place later if we're not too drunk to see."

"We can always come back," Dean said. "We've got time."

So much time, now that Seamus apparated straight into his living room or Dean sent off an owl to find him. It was such a relief to be able to reach out to him now whenever he wanted and be able to hear back, to have some of the relationship take place on his terms rather than just waiting for Seamus to turn up.

Seamus took his hand as they walked into the Hog's Head. By the sounds coming from inside, they were some of the last to arrive.

"Dean!"

"Hello!" Dean called, raising his hand and waving at Neville.

"That's … who?" Seamus asked in a low voice.

"Neville," Dean said, "meet Seamus."

"Oh, you're Neville!"

Dean didn't like the tone in which Seamus said that.

"And you're Seamus. The muggle."

"Not quite," Dean said, sounding embarrassed.

"I'm a wizard, he didn't know. Isn't that cute? Now, you and Dean shared a dorm room? Let's grab a drink."

Seamus threw his arm around Neville.

"We'll all go to the bar," Dean said. "Aberforth, hello."

Aberforth lined up butterbeers on the bar without being asked.

"Glad to see everyone's still in one piece," Aberforth said, casting a look around at the place, "but did you have to do it here?"

"Of course!" Dean said.

"I don't know you." Aberforth narrowed in on Seamus.

"You're gonna," Seamus said brightly. "Is one of these for me? Careful or I'm going to dance on a table."

Aberforth couldn't seem to figure out whether or not Seamus was joking and, so, he just shook his head and picked up his dusting rag. "You deserve one good laugh."

Seamus handed a butterbeer to Dean and then grinned at Neville.

"So, how annoying was he at eleven?"

"Less annoying than you are now." Dean kissed his temple. "I'm going to say hello to Ron and Hermione. Don't let him bother you, Neville."

"I can hold my own," Neville said at the same time Seamus said, "We'll be friends by the time you get back."

Dean was sure that was true.

"I think Luna and Ginny are here too," Neville added, though the Hog's Head wasn't that large and there weren't many places to hide.

At the sound of Luna's name, all Dean could smell was the ocean air of Shell Cottage. For a moment, it paralyzed him and then he shook his head, bringing himself back to the here and now.

"The ex-girlfriend?" Seamus arched his eyebrows, his eyes alight with curiousity but there was no jealous in his expression, which Dean appreciated.

"You can torture her later."

"If you keep talking about that, everyone's going to think I'm awful," Seamus said.

Dean laughed. "They've heard me talk about you before, trust me, no one thinks you're awful."

The gleam was back in Seamus's eye. "_Yet. _I'm not as good of a table dancer as I am musician."

Dean kissed him and then left Seamus talking to Neville while he found the corner that Harry, Hermione, Ron, Luna, and Ginny had bunkered down in. They greeted him happily, handing out birthday wishes, and asking about Seamus. Dean was just as glad to see them and he felt welcomed and loved in the world of magic again as he lowered himself into his seat. He glanced at Seamus, talking animatedly to Neville.

"You been doing okay, Dean?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah, I think so."

"You're free of wrackspurts," Luna noted. "A very good sign."

"Thanks, Luna."

It was heartwarming to be surrounded by them again and Dean couldn't help but think of the Hogwarts feast that would be awaiting students in a few days and he felt a pang of sickness. Everything would be repaired now and he wondered what of the battle they had left as a warning and memorial and what they had decided to take away.

But then Harry and Ron laughed, Hermione looking half-cross at them until she caught Ginny's eye and burst into laughter and Dean was feeling contented with the here and now again. He looked over his shoulder toward Seamus and Neville.

"Uh oh."

"What?" Harry asked and he could tell Harry was just as worried about the past resurrecting as Dean was.

"There's about to be –"

"_WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY BAR?"_

Seamus and Neville fled the fire that Aberforth put out with an exasperated wave of his wand. Seamus hid under Dean's arm.

"At least I'm unforgettable," Seamus said with an easy confidence.

"I can't take my eyes off you for one second," Dean said, shaking his head.

"You love me anyway," Seamus said and then he turned to the group, his arm around Dean's waist. "I'm Seamus."

"The human fireball," Dean sighed. He sat down and pulled Seamus into his lap since there was no spare chair for him.

"Aren't you glad you fell in love with me?" Seamus asked smugly.

Dean didn't answer but he didn't have to. Seamus knew how he felt.

Dean would always be glad he'd met him.

**So, first off, I have been writing this off and on for over a year so if the writing style changes, that's why. Also, I don't think my version of Dean's history matches up exactly with what's on Pottermore but I'm not concerned.**

**Let me know what you think. I had fun writing it and I hope you had fun reading it!**

**~TLL~**


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